


Bones and Dust

by Tell_Me_Tales



Series: 'Tales Retold [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Fellswap, Alternate Universe - Swapfell (Undertale), Angst, Child Abuse, Child Papyrus, Death, Family, Fluff, Gen, I can't be the only one that confuses these two AUs, Necromancy, Older brother Sans, Pre-Accident W. D. Gaster, Skeleton Monsters are Undead Humans Theory, Slavery, Swapfell Papyrus - Freeform, Swapfell Sans, Swapfell W. D. Gaster, Younger Brother Papyrus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23092273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tell_Me_Tales/pseuds/Tell_Me_Tales
Summary: In a half-Swapped Fell-verse, Captain Sans of Her Majesty's Royal Guard unexpectedly finds himself with custody of his younger brother.
Relationships: Sans & Papyrus, W. D. Gaster & Papyrus, W. D. Gaster & Sans
Series: 'Tales Retold [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1493492
Comments: 47
Kudos: 49





	1. What Remains of the Good Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> This author values and encourages:
> 
>   * Constructive critique
>   * Notification of typos, misspellings, grammatical mistakes, and other writing errors
>   * Feedback on storytelling strengths and weaknesses
>   * Theorizing on character motivations, past events, future story beats, etc.
>   * Reader-to-reader conversation in the comments
> 

> 
> In the comments section, this author generally:
> 
>   * Replies to questions
>   * Attempts to avoid spoilers
>   * Is an imperfect human being, but such is life
> 


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reasons that may or may not ever come up in-fic, I have decided to rename Hotland to 'Magmaflow.'

Sans draws a slow, deep breath, careful to keep his outward appearance calm, and uses a single finger to depress the intercom button. He waits for the initial buzz to clear before speaking. "You told me to come back if I survived the outside world," Sans says, "Well, it's been almost two centuries and I'm not dust yet. Satisfied?"

There's no answer through the comm system, but the door to the Magmaflow Lab swishes open. The blast of icy air that rushes past him almost reminds him of home. More to the point, it vaguely reminds him of _Snowdin's_ frigid, year-round temperatures. Sans doesn't allow himself to hesitate longer than a bare second. Never show weakness. That's survival rule number two, just after securing the basic needs of shelter, food, and water.

"Subject 2-S, I expected you sooner," Doctor Gaster says in lieu of a greeting.

Sans tisks loudly. "I have a hard time believing you expected me to come back at all, Doc."

"I've kept an eye on you during our time apart," Gaster waves at a wall covered in monitors displaying different sections of the underground, "or several." Sans stiffens. He's thought about the possibility many times over the years, but it's discomforting to have such a blunt confirmation. "You've done well for yourself, Captain. You keep Snowdin under meticulous control. It even appears that you've gained some level of loyalty in your underlings."

"I clawed my way up from the bottom and earned my place." He's quickly coming up on his limit as to how long he'll be able to stay in this building without crumbling. He needs to get out. "Is there a point to this?"

"All in good time, 2-S." The scientist folds his hands neatly behind his back and paces leisurely toward the back wall of the lobby. "How are you at managing the rise of your LoVe?" He keeps his hands in clear view as he unclasps them and presses the call button for the elevator.

"I'm not going down there!" Sans snaps. He's not going any farther from the front door than this room if he can help it.

Gaster levels a disgruntled look in his direction. "And I have no intention of allowing you any deeper into my lab. What is needed is already inside the elevator."

The shorter skeleton tenses at the words. No, that's not ominous _at all._

Gaster continues, "If you would answer my earlier question."

Sans bites back the urge to snarl and says, "It gets worse every time but, from what I understand, that's normal and I handle it."

Gaster considers him with critical eyelights for a long moment and then, strangely, the older monster sighs. "It will have to be sufficient," he decides, "The alternative is unacceptable."

A chime dings and the elevator doors slide open to reveal --

"Papyrus!" Sans can't catch the desperate call in time to stop it. He'll no doubt chastise himself for the slip later, but in the moment he can hardly bring himself to care. He glares up at Gaster and growls, "What did you do to him?"

The other monster's voice is bland and even as he replies, "He's sedated."

"And the injuries?" Sans demands.

Gaster only looks at him, cut off from the world around them by the emotionless mask he claims as his face.

"Answer me!"

Gaster sighs and spares a glance at the young monster unconscious on the floor of the elevator. "He can't stay here," he says at last, "If he does, it will only be a matter of time before I destroy him. Better for him to rely on a false brother to care for him, than an unstable cousin. That is, after all, why I made you, 2-S."

He'd known that. Of course he'd known. But he'd thought that particular duty behind him, ever since the day he'd been tossed out on his tailbone and permanently, he'd assumed, separated from his baby brother. "F-fine," he says, an unsteady breath shuddering past his vocal matrix, "I'll take him. And if I ever see you near my brother again, I'll dust you."

Gaster tips his head toward Sans in a shallow nod. "Agreed." A short pause, and then, "Thank you, Sans." He barely hears the older skeleton, far more focussed on pulling Papyrus clear of the elevator and then healing what wounds he can.

In less than five minutes, Sans leaves the lab with his younger brother bundled close to his chest, intent on returning to the relative safety of Snowdin as quickly as possible.


	2. Patience, or Something Like It

Sans stares at the small skeleton resting on his couch. (Though, if he's honest with himself, Papyrus isn't much shorter than Sans, himself, is. Not that Sans can afford to pretend his own stature is at all impressive or intimidating, but... Papy has grown a lot during their time apart. It won't be much longer before his younger brother is taller than he ever will be.)

The younger monster's chest rises and falls in regular breaths and Sans struggles to hold onto his patience. He's usually better at it, but Papyrus has yet to stir from whatever drugs the doc used on him -- except once, during the boat ride home.

_'Tra la la... The Man Who Speaks in Hands passed on a cherished gift and heavy burden to his legacy.'_

The monster scowls at the memory. He avoids the River Ghoul as a general rule, but getting Papyrus somewhere safe in good time took precedence over Sans' discomfort with the odd being. He could never figure out the other's agenda or goals, and nothing ate at Sans' nerves quite like dealing with someone with unknown motives did. Sans wasn't even completely sure that the River Ghoul was a monster and not _something_ else.

Sans shakes his head and tries to banish the thoughts from his skull. Now is hardly the time. There are more important things to think about.

Like where his younger brother is going to sleep. The couch will suffice for the moment, but it isn't an acceptable long-term solution. The upstairs office he'd created for himself could be cleared out. Most of the important pieces could be placed in his bedroom and that would open up the space for Papyrus to use. Of course, then he'd need to procure another mattress and frame. He'd also need to find toiletries and clothes for his brother. There's undoubtedly more that he hasn't thought of just yet, but... The obvious is enough to start with.

Papyrus remains still with no sign of waking in the immediate future and Sans makes his decision. If nothing else, doing something productive will help burn through some of the anxious energy bubbling up inside him and he can clear the room without leaving Papyrus alone in the house.

Sans takes another handful of seconds to reassure himself that Papyrus is safe and sleeping soundly (if only because the doc had seen fit to _drug_ the child) before forcing himself away. He has a fair amount of work ahead of him.


	3. Reunion and Separation

"Doctor?"

Sans startles and drops the string of desk drawers he has suspended with blue magic. He manages to catch all eight before they hit the floor. The same cannot be said of all of their contents. Several sheets of paper, countless paper clips, and a handful of pens rain down. Sans tisks at his own clumsiness. This is what he gets for trying to rush a task he should have known to do in smaller steps.

"...Doctor?" the young, achingly familiar voice calls again.

_Papyrus!_

Sans hurriedly yanks the trail of drawers into his bedroom and settles them with little care for their positioning beyond making sure that they are stable and will remain unbroken. He can come back for the mess in the hall later. The skeleton hurries down the staircase only to freeze in place at the bottom.

Papyrus has curled up in the corner of the couch, tense and obviously afraid. Once upon a time, Sans would have instantly known what to do in order to calm the younger monster. Now, Sans isn't sure if Papyrus will even let him get close enough to try. Regardless, hesitating isn't doing either of them any good.

"How are you feeling?" There. That's safe enough. Sans fingers itch to reach out and grab hold of his brother. The skeleton curls his traitorous hands into fists, instead.

"Sans?" Papyrus questions back with twice the amount of wariness, "Is that you? You look different."

"I --" Sans takes a deep breath, forces himself _not_ to pay his LoVe-sharpened teeth any special attention, and straightens to his full height. "Yeah, Papy, it's me. And you're right. I look different, now. I --"

Papyrus' eye sockets fill with tears. "Sans!" he cries, attempting to untangle his limbs with movements made clumsy by the sedative still in his system.

Sans is at the young monster's side in an instant. "Hey, now. Don't cry. You're safe here. Everything will be alright, Brother."

"You're here! You're really _here!_ " Papyrus clings to him as soon as he is within reach and buries his face in the work shirt Sans is wearing. "You left!" the child cries.

Sans stiffens, but then Papyrus whimpers and the older skeleton forces himself to relax again. "I know, Papy. I'm sorry," he says, running a gentle hand over the other's skull and mindful of his sharpened phalanges, "I couldn't take you with me. It would have been too dangerous." Not that he'd been given a choice in the matter.

Papyrus sniffles. "I _missed_ you, Sansy," he confesses.

"I missed you, too," Sans says, struggling to hide the tremble in his vocal matrix.

Papyrus is quiet, aside from soft sobs, for nearly a full minute before he speaks again. "Where's Doctor?"

Sans frowns. "'Doctor'? What happened to 'Wings'?" he asks, mentally preparing himself for an answer that will undoubtedly anger him.

Papyrus stills in his arms, the sobs cutting off sharply. The small skeleton pulls away enough to peek around Sans warily. "He doesn't like it when I call him that, anymore," he explains in a whisper, "He gets angry and... He got really bad after you left, Sans. Doctor told me his LoVe makes him sick and it's not safe for anyone to be around him."

None of that is particularly surprising. Gaster has always struggled with his LoVe, even more than other monsters do. Sans hadn't realized it while he'd been living under the doc's 'care,' but it's obvious in hindsight -- now that he has something to compare the oldest skeleton's behavior against. The doc had been a hair's breadth away from becoming abusive when he kicked Sans out, and he'd known as soon as he'd seen Papyrus that Gaster had since crossed that line at some point. He's not happy about it, of course not, but he's hardly shocked. ~~Part of him is grateful that Gaster remains sane enough to recognize his actions as _wrong_ and compassionate enough to seek out better living arrangements for Papyrus.~~

_'Better for him to rely on a false brother to care for him, than an unstable cousin.'_

Sans fights against the urge to shudder.

"It doesn't matter, now," he says, "You're staying here, with me. You're never going back there."

"But --" Papyrus cuts himself off but he looks up at Sans with worried sockets.

Sans sighs. "What is it, Papy?"

Papyrus turns his head away but his hands fist tighter into Sans' shirt. "If I'm not there... He'll be all alone," he whispers.

"That isn't your burden," Sans says with a frown, "Wingdings Gaster isn't your responsibility."

"But --"

"No," Sans interrupts, "He knew he wasn't taking care of you properly, so he gave you to me. He doesn't want you anywhere near him and there isn't anything you can do to help him."

Tears fill the child's eye sockets again.

"I'm sorry, Papyrus, but it's better for everyone if you and Wingdings Gaster never see each other again."

Papyrus' crying fills the room and Sans is only relieved that the young monster allows Sans to hold him through his tears.


	4. Garbage Choices

Sans stares at the strip of leather in his hand. He'd been digging elbow-deep through the refuse, just as countless scavengers before him have, and when he'd pulled his hand back to see his prize it hadn't been what he'd expected to find caught in his grasp.

He'd been hoping for a belt to go with the three pairs of pants he'd managed to find for Papyrus. (He thinks they'll fit fairly well, but only if he can secure something to help hold the waistbands in place. Keeping pants on a literally skeletal frame is always a bit of a hassle. The best way is to sinch the fabric over the iliac crests, but applying sufficient pressure and friction along the iliac spines generally works too. Either way, a belt or something like it is required.) The collar in his hand is far too small for such a function, however...

Sans scowls as he is forced to consider an option he previously hadn't thought of. He's yet to introduce Papyrus to anyone in Snowdin, but he can't keep his brother hidden away in the house forever. The collar represents an opportunity so long as he is willing to trade his brother's dignity for it.

In a world of kill or be killed, many things have to be weighed against each other.

The queen has a habit of personally executing monsters judged guilty of dusting or otherwise harming children, and that makes many monsters wary of harassing _any_ small monster wearing stripes. The problem is, there are a lot of loopholes in that protection that can be, _and are,_ exploited on a regular basis in the Underground. For one, it was void the instant a child attacked an adult and it could be claimed the child was then dusted in 'self-defense' no matter how laughable the contest in strength may have been. If a child ever happened upon an adult in an isolated place, there was no way to prove that the child _hadn't_ attempted to attack the adult, leading yet again to the same result. And children have no such protection from each other. Top that off with the fact that any child that reached adulthood before they gained at least a few LoVe became an immediate target and you have yourself a fine mess.

So, children's stripes may give Papyrus a bit of protection, but it would be exceedingly foolish to rely on them for his brother's safety. Children were kept close if their parents had any ambition of seeing them survive to adulthood.

But if he claimed Papyrus as his pet, rather than his brother... If he stripped Papyrus of his personhood in the eyes of the Underground, reduced him to property instead... Ironically, that might protect him far better than anything else Sans could do for his brother, as long as Sans, himself, could continue to avoid getting dusted.

Murder and monslaughter may be legal, but property damage wasn't, which meant Sans could use the guard to hunt down anyone that attempted to harm Papyrus. And everyone knew that messing with a pet meant risking their master's retribution. The same could not be said about family members. While some families in the Underground remained strong, others had dissolved to the point where they dusted each other for the EXP. A truly disgusting practice but one Sans couldn't afford to pretend didn't happen.

There were other boons to the idea as well. The protection wouldn't disappear as soon as Papy reached his adulthood. Having a pet would boost Sans' reputation. (And in a world like theirs, an intimidating reputation was worth more than any amount of gold.) Any unfortunate incidents were more likely to be resolved by holding Sans accountable for his brother's behavior but less likely to end in Papyrus' dust, at least. Papyrus would be able to carry a visible sign of his protection without Sans needing to be constantly at his shoulder.

The more Sans thinks about it, the less of a choice it seems to be. His brother's dignity or his safety? What good does dignity do a pile of dust?

Sans opens his inventory and chucks the collar in beside the sodden pile of clothes he's gathered thus far for Papyrus. He'll have to figure out how to explain it to his brother once he gets home, but for now... Well, he still has a belt that needs finding.


	5. Of Homecomings and Hugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reasons that may or may not ever come up in-fic, I have decided to rename Waterfall to 'Marshland.'

"I'm back!" Sans calls as soon as he has the door secured behind him.

He hears the soft, squeaking sound of reluctant hinges followed by some impatient shuffling before Papyrus rounds the corner leading from the kitchen and comes barrelling toward him. "Sans!"

Sans raises his hand. "No," he says in a tone that brooks no arguments and successfully halts the younger skeleton in his tracks, "I'm filthy and those are nice clothes. You are _not_ to ruin them." He'd cleaned up as best he could in Marshland but he still smells like the Dump, and there's only so much that can be accomplished with cold, murky water and no soap or hydrogen peroxide.

Papyrus pouts but only says, "Yes, Sans."

"Where did you pick?" he asks. He'd told his brother to hide if anyone tried to enter the house and he'd taken his time in opening the door specifically to give Papyrus time to practice. It's been roughly three decades since the last time someone was foolish enough to break into his home, but better to be overly cautious than to come back to his brother's dust.

"The cabinet next to the one under the sink."

Not the worst place to hide, Sans decides. "Not bad, but it's best to have options," he tells the child, "Pick somewhere else next time."

"Yes, Sans."

"Good. Now, lift your shirt. I need to see your belt." He hadn't been able to find one, despite his best efforts, but it had dawned on him about an hour ago that Papyrus was probably already wearing one.

Papyrus frowns but obeys, pulling his shirt's hemline out of the way. "What are you looking for?" he asks, trying to watch Sans and examine the belt in question at the same time.

"Checking quality," Sans mumbles. He hooks a pair of phalanges around the band and gives it a testing tug. It's sturdy enough and only shows light wear. It might even have been made in the Underground rather than scavenged from the Dump. Sans releases the belt with a satisfied grunt.

Whatever Gaster's faults, several and severe though they may be, they hadn't extended to providing for the basics. While he'd been living with the doc, he'd always had plenty of food, good clothes, and the Magmaflow Lab was one of the best-built buildings in the entire Underground. He'd learned the hard way, after getting kicked out, that such things were not guaranteed to anyone in the Underground.

Sans runs his eyelights over the rest of the outfit his brother is wearing. Papyrus is just shy of being dressed as well as any noblemon's son. Such were the perks of being the royal scientist's ward. Papyrus had been cast out of the doc's protection without anything but the clothes on his back, much like Sans had been, but at least they were good clothes.

Beyond that, there appear to be some subtle differences in the manner the doc chose to expel Sans from his care and the way he did so with Papy. As far as Sans can tell, Gaster sincerely wishes for Papyrus to be kept safe or he would have left him to the all-but-nonexistent mercy of the Underground at large. Instead, he'd gone about sneakily courting Sans' attention until he'd dragged himself back to the lab to see what the older skeleton wanted. It _might_ be worth it to go back one more time to collect Papyrus' belongings from the lab. Gaster would _probably_ let him have the rest of his brother's clothes, and maybe a few other things as well.

"I need a shower. Go play or something, just don't leave the house."

Papyrus pouts and Sans ignores him as he slips past the younger monster and up the stairs. He also ignores the footfalls shadowing his own all the way to the bathroom. He closes the door in the brat's face without turning around to acknowledge him. Papyrus huffs loudly enough to be heard past the thin barrier and Sans rolls his eyelights.

* * *

His shower is quick and efficient but he isn't expecting to find Papyrus still waiting for him when he leaves the bathroom. He raises a brow but says nothing. Neither does Papyrus, who only stares up at him with an impatient look on his face. Quickly tiring of their staring contest, Sans strides bare-boned past his brother on the way to his bedroom. Predictably, Papyrus trails after him like a lost puppy too young to realize how dangerous following a stranger can be.

He leaves the door to his bedroom open in tacit permission which Papyrus takes, though he lingers near the doorway instead of following after Sans further into the room.

Sans takes a moment to consider his wardrobe before pulling on a ratty, obnoxiously-colorful t-shirt and an old favorite pair of shorts with drawstrings. No one but Papyrus is going to be seeing him and he's going to be stuck doing house chores for the rest of the day. He may as well wear something comfortable.

He turns around to confirm that Papyrus is still lingering in his doorway as an agitated, mopey collection of bones. He is not proven incorrect. Sans decides enough is enough. "Yes, Papyrus?" he prompts.

"Can I hug you _now?_ " the boy demands.

Sans blinks. He hadn't expected Papyrus to be so put out over being denied a hug when he first came home. Maybe he should have. The younger monster has always been the tactile sort.

Sans can't help the way his static grin stretches and tilts into a smirk, pushing up at the bottom edges of his eye sockets. He holds out an arm in a silent invitation and Papyrus doesn't disappoint. The child practically flies across the room and tackles him.

Sans laughs as he catches both their souls with blue magic and tugs them in the opposite direction so they don't end up in a heap on the floor. "Clingy brat," he says fondly.

"I don't like it when you leave," Papyrus says, instantly killing Sans' mirth, "I get scared you won't come back."

"I..." What is he even supposed to say to that? Sans holds his brother tighter, closes his eyes, and _listens._ This close, it's possible to feel another monster's soul song and Papyrus' currently has a strong, pounding fear leading it. Sans tisks softly. He can figure out what to say later. Right now, he's better off letting his own soul song do the reassuring. Sans focuses on his affection for Papyrus, on the heady relief of having him nearby and safe, and lets himself _feel_ the emotions until his usual stresses and worries are nothing but quiet notes easily lost in the rest of the melody.

Papyrus gives a full-bodied rattle and pushes himself more firmly against Sans, like he wants to climb inside Sans' ribcage and hide there.

Sans huffs. He still has chores to do and doesn't take a genius to realize that Papyrus isn't inclined to let him go anytime soon. At the very least, Sans needs to get the worst pieces of laundry from the Dump started in the wash before unpleasant things have a chance to dry on the fabrics. Sans swats lightly at his brother's hip and commands, "Up."

Papyrus doesn't need to be told twice. A short hop ends in his legs wrapped over Sans pelvis every bit as securely as his arms are about his shoulders. Sans takes a moment to find his new center of gravity. He's out of practice in carrying Papyrus around like this and his brother's added height makes him a more cumbersome burden than he used to be. Sans doubts weight will ever be an issue but he suddenly realizes that the younger monster's next growth spurt will likely mark the end of his ability to cart Papy around in any practical manner.

"You're getting too big for this," he remarks.

Papyrus makes an unhappy noise and doesn't pull his face away from where it's buried in Sans' shirt to reply, "No, I'm not."

Sans snickers. "C'mon, Papy, it's a good thing!" he encourages, "You want to grow up big and strong, don't you?"

Papyrus shifts just enough to be able to peek up at him with one eyelight. "I want cuddles more," he pouts.

The older skeleton presses his forehead to his brother's temple briefly. "With my luck," he whispers in a conspiratorial voice, his underlying amusement clear in his tone, "you'll have it all one day and turn into some kind of overgrown, cuddling menace on me and I'll never get anything done ever again."

Papyrus huffs and hides his face in Sans' shirt again.

Sans laughs. "C'mon, Papy, let's go see about the laundry. You can pour the soap in."

Papyrus perks up just a little bit at that. "Okay."

Sans thinks they'll make it through the rest of the day well enough.


	6. A Promise

Sans looks up from his task when he hears bare-boned feet descend the staircase. His plan had been to have Papyrus sleep on the couch. The young monster had thwarted said plan by simply refusing to let go of Sans once it was time for bed. It had been a long day and the elder brother hadn't been up to participating in that particular competition of stubbornness.

(Of course, now that Papyrus knew he could win that battle, it was going to be a struggle to convince him to sleep in his own bed instead of crowding Sans' -- whenever Sans eventually got around to finding Papyrus a bed of his own, that is. Tracking down another mattress and frame isn't very high on his priorities list, and probably won't be so long as Papyrus remains small enough that they can both comfortably fit in Sans' bed and the younger skeleton won't even appreciate the effort.)

"Good to know you still sleep like the dead, Papy!" he calls to his brother. Papyrus hadn't stirred an inch when Sans had gotten up over an hour ago.

The small skeleton cautiously enters the kitchen and levels an unimpressed look at Sans. "Getting good sleep is important for health!" he says, "It boosts HP!"

Sans snorts and turns back to working the leather collar in his hands. "Yep, right up until someone dusts you in one hit because your guard was down," he says. There had been a few close calls, in his early years outside the lab, where he almost hadn't woken in time to dodge an opportunistic attacker. ~~And Sans didn't have much HP to spare in a fair fight, let alone surviving a blow he wasn't prepared for.~~ As an afterthought, he adds, "Don't take any naps outside of the house."

"I get to leave the house?" Papyrus yells and Sans nearly falls out of his chair at the unexpected volume change. Papyrus ducks his head and mumbles, "Sorry."

Sans uses his panicked grasp on the table to pull himself back into an upright position. He tisks softly when he realizes he's scored claw marks into the tabletop. It's hardly a pristine surface, but he hadn't meant to add to its scars. "There are conditions," Sans tells the boy. He uses blue magic to retrieve the collar from the floor where he'd dropped it and eyes it critically. It's probably as good as it's going to get. He sets it on the table and banishes his leather polish and rag back into his inventory.

Sans gives his full attention to his brother. "What do you remember from before the lab?"

"Um... Nothing?" Papyrus answers.

The older skeleton sighs. "You were pretty young when it was built, so that's not surprising," he admits, "What did the doc tell you about the 'Kill or Be Killed' laws?"

The child gives a full-bodied rattle. He hugs himself as he says, "Queen Toriel wants a strong army to fight the humans when the barrier breaks, so monsters dust other monsters to gain LoVe."

"Something like that," Sans says with a shrug, "What's important for you, is that you trust no one and keep your guard up whenever you're out of the house. Don't go anywhere alone and stick to public areas with lots of monsters. Witnesses are _important._

"I am the sole exception to these rules. Do you understand, Papyrus? The monsters out there _will_ dust you if they think they can get away with it, and some of them are stupid enough to believe I'd allow it."

Papyrus now looks terrified at the prospect of going outside and that's frankly a better reaction than his earlier excitement. It's more likely to keep him alive. "Yes, S-Sans," he says, twisting his fingers and shooting nervous glances toward the front door, "...Maybe I don't need to go outside."

"Sorry, Papy, but that's not an option," Sans says, "I'm not a shut-in, like the doc. I have to go to work." He taps lightly at the leather chest plate he's wearing to emphasize his point. It and the pauldrons are the only pieces of Royal Guard armor he wears. They give the best boost to his defense for the weight and the full kit slows his dodging too much to be tolerated. "Leaving you here by yourself every day is too much of a vulnerability. It would practically be an invitation for someone to try to break in and cause trouble."

"Monsters can break into your house?" Papyrus asks, looking both horrified and dumbfounded.

Sans tisks. "Only the dumb ones try," he says, "But this isn't the lab, Papy. I don't have anything like the doc's crazy security system. This isn't a steel fortress in Magmaflow. It's a wood house on the outskirts." Papyrus begins to rattle and Sans realizes he may have pushed too much. Fear could keep you alive, but too much of it only caused paranoia and stress which could eat away at a monster's HP.

"Hey," Sans says, "calm down. Everyone in Snowdin knows better than to mess with me and, by the end of the week, I'll have made it clear to every last one of them that you are not to be touched. Most of the danger comes from drifters who don't know how I run the town, and we don't get many of those.

"I'm going to do everything I can to keep you safe, Papy. That's a _promise._ And anyone who tries to stop me from keeping that promise? They'll be a pile of dust before they even have a chance to regret their decision."

His words don't quite have the desired effect. Papyrus bursts into tears, but then he throws himself at Sans and clings to him.

Sans sighs and hugs the shaking monster. He's fairly certain he used to be better at this big brother thing, once upon a time.


	7. Play Pretend

Papyrus picks at his breakfast and Sans tries to suppress the small, fretful voice in his head. His younger brother has been uprooted and thrown into a completely new life. A lacking appetite is among the gentler symptoms that might crop up and it's not as if Sans is under any illusions that the meal is some extravagant delicacy.

His cooking is passable. He can make something that isn't burnt or raw at its center, but that's about where his expertise in food preparation ends. He's never seen much need to nurture his skills in cooking beyond that. There's always been something of greater importance to tend to in the past, but if better food would tempt Papy to eat more than it might be acceptable to feed a moldsmal with a tender stomach... It's a thought for later.

Sans shoves the last of his breakfast in his mouth and takes his dirty plate and fork to the sink. He returns to his seat at the table and watches Papyrus poke at his food for another three minutes before giving up the idea of getting proper sustenance into the growing skeleton monster, at least on this particular morning. He rises to his feet again with a sigh, grabs both the plate and fork from his brother (Papyrus makes a small noise in objection, but they both know that he's done _eating,_ so Sans ignores it.) and stashes the lot of it in the fridge. Maybe by the time he remembers its existence later, it will still be edible. Even if it won't be enjoyable, Sans hates the thought of wasting the resources. He's come close to starving too many times to be willing to throw out food that isn't likely to make the monster that eats it sick.

Sans runs critical eyelights over the smaller skeleton seated -- _moping_ \-- at his table. He draws a slow, bracing breath and retrieves the collar from his inventory. This needs to be done before he can let Papyrus out of the house and his shift starts soon. He can't put this conversation off any further. It has to be had _now._

"Papyrus," he says, waiting for his brother's attention. He gets it in short order, the younger monster's spine straightening but his shoulders hunching. Sans crushes the inclination to tisk at himself when he realizes he's allowed his nerves to affect his tone, enough to cause the younger skeleton _distress._ The last thing Papyrus needs right now is more stress. He tries to soften his tone as he continues. "We're going to play a game. Pretend," he says, "Just like we used to before I... left."

"Really?" Papyrus asks, cautiously hopeful. ~~Sans is torn between wanting to tear the doc to shreds for destroying his brother's old reckless enthusiasm and wanting to thank him for doing so, because that new untrusting caution may be what keeps the youngest skeleton _alive_ outside of the lab.~~

"Yes," Sans nods once and holds up the collar for Papy to see, "A very _important_ game of pretend. One that absolutely must not be broken as soon as we leave the house and up until the door is safely locked behind us after we return home. Do you understand, Papy? Anytime you leave the house, anytime it is not just the two of us, you _must_ play the game and you must play it _perfectly._ "

The boy frowns first at the collar and then at him. "We're going to play pretend, but..." he pauses to find the words he wants, "It's not a game, is it, Sans?"

The older skeleton sighs. "No. It's not," he admits. He can't say he's really surprised his brother picked up on the truth so easily. (He's young, but the brat has always been too clever for his own good.) Still, part of him had hoped the boy would go along with the plan without comment. "We need to pretend well enough that we fool everyone else into believing it's real."

"You want us to lie?" Papyrus asks in affronted disbelief, "All the time? To everyone?"

Sans pulls himself up to his full height, such as it is, and growls, "Listen, you little brat --" Papy flinches back and stares at him with fearful, blown eyelights. Sans bites the sentence in half and swallows the rest of the words back down. Papyrus is _not_ an insubordinate guardsmon under his command. Treating him like one is counterproductive. ~~He doesn't want his brother to be afraid of him.~~

Sans runs a hand from his brow to his jaws and takes a long, centering breath. He pins Papyrus with a steady stare and, in a voice that is calm but deathly serious, he says, "What I want is for us both to come home every night uninjured and in one piece. This is the best way I can think of to ensure that happens. And _I don't care_ if it's called 'pretend' or 'lying' or anything else, I am _going_ to do everything in my power to _keep you safe._ Your... preferences? Morals? Happiness? Whatever you want to classify this as?" he gestures vaguely at the young monster, "It is a _distant_ secondary priority when set against your continued survival." He allows the slightest bit of growl back into his voice as he asks, "Am I _understood,_ Papyrus?"

His brother shrinks into himself and ducks his head. "Yes, Sans," he says meekly.

The elder skeleton slips two fingers under the mandible of the smaller monster and gently tips his skull up. "I'm sorry, Papy, but it is my greatest responsibility to protect you and I _will not_ allow you to endanger yourself." He hesitates for half-a-second before nudging his ward's forehead with his own. The sheer, crushing relief he feels when Papyrus reciprocates just as he is pulling away is almost enough to make his legs give out under him. Almost. Thankfully, he remains standing and is spared the indignity of collapsing to the floor in front of his little brother.

Sans has no throat he could possibly need to clear, but he's picked up the noise from fleshier monsters as something of a communication tool, and he finds himself using it now out of habit. Of course, Papyrus is likewise a skeleton and so the sound does more to confuse him than anything else. Sans flushes in embarrassment. "A-anyway, we need to go over the rules of the ga-- We need to go over the rules for being out of the house." Sans grimaces as he asks, "Do you, do you know what a 'pet' is, Papy?"

Papyrus' eyelights snap to the collar Sans is still holding. He wraps a hand around his cervical vertebrae, seemingly without conscious thought, and breathes out a soft, "Oh."

Sans glances away, guilt crawling up and down his spine. He forces himself to look at the young skeleton. He can't allow himself to hide from what he is asking his brother to do.

Papyrus looks at him and whispers in a wavering voice, "Doctor explained to me. I saw them sometimes on the screens, and I asked him, and he told me. They have owner monsters -- _masters_ \-- and they have to do whatever their masters tell them to do." Small bones begin to rattle. "Doctor said most masters beat their pets, even if they do what they're told to do. He said some owners dust the pets they don't want anymore.

"Sans!" the child bursts into sobs, "I don't want to be a pet!"

Sans swears and tosses the collar on the table so both his hands are free. ~~He'd been hoping this conversation might go a bit better. Foolish of him.~~ He's just in time. Papyrus throws himself into Sans' arms. "Oh, Papy, don't cry. It's just pretend, remember?" he croons in the most comforting voice he can muster, "You aren't going to be anyone's pet. Not really. I promise!" His careful, soft pitch slips away a bit as he adds, "I'll make anyone who so much as _thinks_ about hurting you regret it."

"But if we're pretending, they won't know, and they'll try to hit me --"

"They wouldn't dare," Sans refutes, "No one touches what's mine." Not without paying a heavy price for the transgression, anyway, but that isn't what the crying child needs to hear.

"But, Sans, they won't know 'm yours, an' they'll think they can do wha-atever they want t-to me! I don' wanna be someone's pet! I-I wanna stay with y-you!"

Realization hits like a slap across the face. "You think I'm going to entrust you to somebody else?" That's a downright _insulting_ insinuation. "Papyrus, the entire point of this scheme is to keep you safe! _I'm_ going to play the role of your master."

Papy hiccups against his shoulder before pulling away and looking at him with a frown. "Sans, you can't play the master. You're too nice to be a pet owner!"

Sans wants to dust on the spot, right now, before he can tarnish the memory of the once-kind monster the child in his arms used to call 'Brother.' He forces a laugh instead. "Funny," he says, "I don't feel very nice, making little skeletons cry."

"I'm serious!" Papyrus huffs, glaring despite the tears still streaming down his face, "No one is going to believe that! Pet owners are mean!"

Sans sighs and sets his younger brother back in his chair, now that the other skeleton seems more indignant than panicked. "Trust me, I have a reputation for being plenty 'mean.' You don't make it to being a captain in the Royal Guard without one. I'm more worried about how well you'll be able to play your part."

"I'm a good pretender!" the small monster protests.

"You are," Sans agrees, "but this is a whole new level from the games we used to play. There's a lot of new rules you'll have to remember."

"I can do it!"

"Good," Sans pauses to recollect his thoughts, "Walk one step behind and to the left of me, always, unless I say different."

Papyrus nods, his stubborn streak obviously aroused at what he saw as a challenge to his competency. Not that the brat would think to phrase it in such a manner, but that's hardly the point and Sans can only be grateful that his brother's determination is being aimed at something useful this time.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it. No questions, no hesitation, instant obedience."

Another nod, though Papyrus seems less than thrilled. Which is fair enough. Sans certainly wouldn't be happy if that rule was directed at him.

"You can ask questions once we're home and the door is locked," he relents. It's the best he can offer. "Unless there is some kind of emergency, you don't speak unless you are spoken to by another monster first."

"But --"

"No," Sans says with a glare, "I know it isn't 'nice' or 'fair' or whatever else. Being a pet, in general, isn't. We're not pretending for fun anymore. We're pretending to keep both of us alive. And that brings us to the next rule.

"Never argue with me in front of anyone. Neither of us will enjoy what follows. From now on, arguments only happen inside this house, where we can be sure they won't be overheard."

Papyrus is starting to look absolutely mutinous, but he nods.

"Outside of this house, we are not brothers, I am your owner. You will not call me 'Sans' or 'Brother.' You will always address me as 'Master.'"

"No," the younger monster says with a very familiar intensity to his eyelights. That stubborn streak has worked its way around from being useful to becoming an obstacle.

"Papyrus," Sans groans.

"No!" he repeats, "I don't want to call you that! 'Masters' are mean! And I don't want to not be able to talk. Sometimes I have very important things to say!"

Sans looks away with an ill-tempered scowl of his own and desperately tries to think of a way around his younger brother's objections. He's asking a lot of Papyrus, and he knows it. There has to be some way to make this at least a little more palatable for his brother.

The older skeleton blinks as a thought comes to him. "What if," Sans speaks slowly, the idea taking shape in his mind, "you weren't really my pet and I wasn't really your master?"

"Sans!" the boy whines, "The whole point of pretend is to be things you aren't really!"

"No, no!" he adds quickly, "What if we pretend twice? What if everyone thinks we're a master and his pet, but secretly we're a prince and his knight hidden away from a powerful usurper trying to steal the throne?" He only hopes adding this layer of complication won't cause unforeseen problems. "What if the two are scared but very clever, and they flee to Snowdin where no one recognizes them. And they make disguises and fake papers so no one would suspect them for being the missing prince and his brave knight."

Papyrus' sockets widen and his eyelights turn into little soul-shapes. "I get to be a knight?"

"Uh, sure." Either way works for Sans. So long as his brother is safe and happy. Thinking on it, that might work better than if Papyrus was playing the prince, anyway. "He's, um, the strong, silent type. Yeah. Sworn to obey and serve his liege, the prince, with honor, skill, and dignity."

"If I'm a knight," Papyrus says, "I get to call you 'm'lord.' Not 'Master!'"

"Deal!" Sans agrees instantly. The odd choice in address shouldn't cause too much of a stir. Some masters demanded their pets call them by alternative titles. Though claiming the title of 'lord' might be a bit... pretentious. Whatever. It should be fine. "One last thing, Papy. Pets, and brave knights pretending to be pets, carry something from their mas-- lords! -- with their magic on it to mark them as... loyal servants."

"The collar?" the boy asks, eyelights flickering over the table where said item still rests.

"It will be, but it needs your magic, too, so it knows who it belongs to." Sans grabs the leather strap and places it in Papyrus' hand. He wraps both of his own around his brother's. "Don't be afraid, Papy. My magic might feel scary for a little bit, but none of this is for you. Just try to stay relaxed."

A slight hesitation, and then, "Okay."

Papyrus yelps as Sans begins to feed magic into the collar, tangling and pulling at the younger skeleton's magic as it passes through the bones of his caught hand. The magic is a snarling, angry, possessive thing pulled deep from within Sans' soul. It promises a swift retribution for any that would dare attack his little brother. It only takes a second or two before the collar is imbued with as much magic as it is capable of holding. Sans carefully releases his hold on Papyrus and allows the child to pull away.

Papyrus cautiously flexes his hand. "It's all... tingly," he says in distaste.

Sans snorts. "Sorry, Papy. It will pass. Just give it a bit."

While Papyrus makes a show of assessing the state of his reclaimed hand, Sans inspects his work. Leather takes magic much better than plastics or metals do, but the collar is little more than a tiny scrap of material and he'd had some concerns about how much energy it could actually hold. Giving the collar a testing poke, Sans is quickly reassured that the collar holds enough magic to make its message clear: ' _harm this monster at your own risk; this is your last warning._ ' It certainly feels like the few pet collars Sans has encountered before. Or, at least, it does from the outside. Sans has very little interest in mimicking whatever subjugation or punishment spells might be regularly used in real pet collars.

"Alright, Papy, time to try on the collar."

The young skeleton pauses mid-wrist-rotation and stares at the offending item. "Okay," he says, nervously shifting his seat.

Sans tries to ignore that. This was never going to be a great experience for either of them. "Chin up," he directs. He waits for Papyrus to obey before gently wrapping the leather strap around his brother's cervical vertebrae and fixing the buckle into place. "How's it feel?" What he intends to ask, is whether or not he's pulled the stupid thing too tight, or maybe left it too loose. That isn't the sort of answer his brother gives him.

Papyrus cocks his head to the side and pinches his brow thoughtfully. "Prickly, and angry, and... fussy," the boy suddenly grins, "It worries the same way you do!" Sans can feel the flush ignite across his face. He... hadn't quite expected that. The young skeleton pats the collar as if trying to reassure it. "I think I'm going to like my collar, Sans," he says, "It's a little like hearing your soul song. Some parts are missing, but it's still you."

Maybe he should have seen this coming. It's his magic fueling the thing, and the entirety of the intent behind it is to protect Papyrus, even if it is twisted into a vicious warning meant for others. Of course Papy found a way to draw comfort for the damned faux pet collar. Whatever. It's better than any of the alternatives would have been.

"Come on, Brat," Sans mumbles, trying to banish his embarrassment, "We need to get going. Remember, there are lots of rules. Follow behind, obey me completely, no talking first."

"Yes, Sans."

Sans clears his throat. And then immediately regains the blush he'd just managed to push down.

"Why do you do that?" Papyrus asks.

"It's something fleshy monsters do to communicate certain things. It's not so different from tisking. I know you've heard me do _that_ before," he tells his brother, "The exact meaning changes based on the situation. It takes some time to learn how to read it right."

"Oh. You mean the clicking sound you and Doctor sometimes make?" Papyrus gains a pensive look, "Why did you make the new sound, this time?"

"Form of address, Papy."

"What? Oh!" Papyrus ducks his head and he'd look meek if it wasn't for the determination blazing in his eyelights. "Yes, m'lord."

Sans nods. "We'll make it work, you and me," he says, "Just... Remember it's all pretend, Papyrus. Anything I say or do out there that you know I wouldn't do at home? It's all pretend. I don't mean any of it."

"I know," Papyrus says, "We have to pretend so well that everyone believes!"

"Good." A nervous exhale that some might consider a sigh. "Good."

Sans leads the other monster to the front door but doesn't open it. He hesitates but ultimately gives into the urge to indulge in one last forehead press with the young skeleton. His little brother eagerly accepts the affectionate gesture as he usually does. Sans straightens to his full height, throws his shoulders back, and unlocks the door separating their home from the rest of the Underground.

"Come, Pet," Sans feels his sins crawling along his spine for daring to address his own brother by such a lowly title. He crushes the guilt and buries the feeling deep inside his soul. He doesn't let it show on his face or in his stance. He doesn't let it affect his voice. "We'll be late for my shift if we don't leave _now._ "

"Yes, m'lord."


	8. New Normal

Papyrus tries to ignore the paw intent on pulling him from his late-morning nap. It is, unfortunately, a very insistent paw.

"C'mon, Pup!" Doggert growls lowly, nervously, "I can hear the Cap'n on his way back from patrol and he will not be happy to find you sleeping under his desk!"

Doggert is right. Sans would _not_ be happy if he found out Papyrus had taken a nap outside of the house. Again. Nevermind that the guardhouse midway between Snowdin and the Ruins was better fortified than their own home. Or that every monster that served in the guard under Sans (all of them dogi, for some reason) clearly adored him. (Although, Sans, himself, seems to have missed the obvious, somehow.) Or how, five days into their ruse, there is not a dogi in Snowdin (guard or otherwise) that has not picked up on how, not merely possessive, but _protective_ their captain is of his new 'pet.' Or the fussing and fretting that Sans can't seem to help, no matter how much he tries to cover it up with snarls. The dogi aren't stupid. Too many of them are members of the guard, and they see and hear too much day in and day out not to put some of the pieces together. They have definitely figured out that Sans doesn't keep Papyrus as his pet. Sometimes, Papyrus wonders if any of the braver ones have _asked_ Sans what Papyrus is to him. (None of them have asked Papyrus, yet.)

Papyrus cracks his jaw on a particularly large yawn as he finally relents and gives in to the inevitable.

"Bones aren't supposed to make those noises," Doggert grumbles as he slouches off to reclaim his place leaning against the far wall.

Papyrus huffs a small laugh. None of the dogi like to hear bone-popping noises. He isn't really sure why. They are normal enough sounds for a skeleton to make. Did Sans do something? He supposes it isn't important.

"Pup, hurry it up!" Doggert warns.

He hates that nickname. It's a _pun._ It had been an honest mistake on Alpha Dog's part, coming off a 'graveyard' shift in the mid-morning hours, when the two had been first introduced. Apparently, 'Pupyrus' would not be too strange a name for a dogi. Unfortunately, it had amused Sans. And, from there, it wasn't very long before every guard in the Snowdin chapter was calling him 'Pup.' Well, there are worse things to be called. (Some of the non-dogi monsters in town have taught him a few. He knows because Sans gets actually angry, and not pretend angry, whenever he hears them.)

The small skeleton reluctantly leaves the warmth under the desk. (There is one tiny, insufficient space heater for the whole guardhouse and it lives under the administrator's desk, making it the warmest, best place for a nap.)

Papyrus is only halfway to his feet when the door to the guardhouse slams open. Sans eyelights go immediately to the chair Papyrus is _not_ sitting in before beginning to scan the room and locking on to the out-of-place skeleton still awkwardly crouched partly under the desk. Busted.

Papyrus offers his brother a guilty smile and a sweet greeting that he knows will not save him. "Welcome back, m'lord!"

Sans looks ready to spit fire. Which would be very impressive, considering that it is not at all something the older skeleton's magic has a natural affinity for!

The captain stalks forward with a dark glower on his face and Papyrus resigns himself to his fate. "Again?" Sans snarls, "How many times do I have to tell you? This is a place for working, not sleeping! Did you get anything done while I was gone?"

(Doggert attempts to shuffle out the door unnoticed. He is... not at all stealthy but Sans ignores his subordinate's departure. The canine guard joins Smallest Dog outside the building soon enough and the two waste no time in starting the next patrol loop. Papyrus has noticed that it is rare for any of the dogi to stick around if Sans is openly agitated and they have a ready excuse to be elsewhere in a hurry.)

"Yes, m'lord!" Papyrus quickly holds out the stack of papers. He'd completed most of them, anyway, before he'd started falling asleep on them because they were so _boring._ (At which point, he'd decided, if he was going to fall asleep either way, he should nap in the most comfortable space available to him.)

Sans ignores them and pulls Papyrus' head first to one side and then the other. The younger skeleton keeps himself from sighing in exasperation as he allows Sans to 'check for damage.' He does this every time they're separated for so much as a moment outside of their home. Fussy, paranoid, mother hen of a brother. None of the dogi would try to hurt him. Papyrus has known them all less than a full week, but he can tell! (Some of the other monsters in town might try, though. Most of the rabbits don't seem to like Sans for some reason; and that means they don't like Papyrus, either.)

"Hn. Next time," Sans says, seemingly satisfied that Papyrus has survived his nap unharmed, "don't fall asleep."

"Yes, m'lord." They both know it's an empty promise. They both choose to ignore that fact.

Sans hooks a finger through the D-ring of his collar and gives it a short tug. It's a strangely comforting gesture, for all that it isn't a particularly gentle one. Probably because the collar, constantly roiling with Sans' own magic, is strangely comforting.

(He's learned a lot about his collar, over the past handful of days. Some of those things are practical, physical things, like the most comfortable position for the leather against his bones, or how to put the collar on and take it off without assistance. But mostly he's been learning about how the magic connects him to his older brother. If Sans is close by, his current emotions join the angry, protective ones he'd originally channeled into the collar. If, instead, Papyrus feels a very strong emotion, he can get Sans' attention with it, no matter how far away he is. Usually, this means Sans comes to find him in a hurry, which brings him to another thing he's learned. Sans can also track the collar by the active tug it has on his magic.

It's almost like a soul bond, he thinks. He wishes he was more certain of what a soul bond is supposed to feel like. All skeletons start out with one linking them to their mancer. Papyrus had lost his mancer when he was still very young and he doesn't remember what the bond had felt like.

Doctor, back when he was still 'Wings' and not 'Doctor,' had told him a few times that his mancer had been his mother. That the woman had brought him into the world twice: 'She did so first when she birthed you, and a second time when she raised you, little cousin. She loved you very much.' Sometimes, when he thinks too long about things he doesn't remember but has been told, he feels guilty for forgetting her.)

The captain takes the finished papers and absently dismisses him back to his smaller, less cushy desk in the corner behind the administrative one that Sans settles at, now that his paranoid fears have likewise been settled. "I expect the rest to be finished before my next patrol," the older skeleton says, "That gives you about an hour to work."

Papyrus resists another sigh that attempts to escape him and returns to his workspace. He'd been surprised the first time he realized it, but it is _real_ work Sans gives him to do in the guardhouse, not pretend work. Sans had been very dissatisfied when Papyrus had written down random numbers as answers. The young monster doesn't know _what_ the numbers are for, because Sans makes sure that he sees _only_ the numbers, but they are apparently important for something in Sans' work. It's nice to be able to actually help Sans, but he wishes it wasn't with _math._ (Sometimes, he imagines that Doctor must have told Sans not to let Papyrus slack on his schoolwork. But Sans barely talks about Doctor, and even rarer says anything nice about him, so Papyrus doubts that's actually the reason. The Doctor's raised he may be, but Sans doesn't appear willing to do much of anything for his estranged mancer.)

It's a quiet day for the Snowdin Guard, no incidents, no interruptions in the routine. Sans sits at the administrator's desk and works through stack after stack of paperwork. Sometimes he calls Papyrus over to collect a new set of numbers to work through or to hand over what numbers he has finished. Every-other patrol loop, either Doggert or Smallest Dog comes into the guardhouse to warm up and take a break while Sans takes a turn on patrol with the other guard. (The other two shifts have _six_ guards on duty: two patrols of two, and two minding the guardhouse at all times. Sans had told him it was because the temperature took a dip during the night and the patrolling guards needed more breaks to warm up. Papyrus is fairly certain that was only a half-truth. He hadn't asked further. More often than not, if Sans doesn't want to say something, Papyrus doesn't want to hear whatever that something ends up being.)

When it gets close to noon, Papyrus tears open two ration packs and sets one on the admin's desk by the older skeleton's elbow. Sans glances at the edible but bland fare waiting to be eaten. "Thanks," he grumbles absently before ripping a piece of jerky off with his overly-sharp teeth.

"Of course, m'lord," Papyrus murmurs and retreats back to his own desk to eat. It is a far more demure exchange than day three's had been.

(On day one, Sans had completely forgotten lunch until Papyrus mentioned it, and then he'd only sworn at himself under his breath and retrieved one ration pack for Papyrus. Sans had skipped lunch that day.

On day two, Papyrus had grabbed two of the food packets for a late lunch after they'd both forgotten and placed one on Sans' desk. The older skeleton had worked around it for the rest of the shift and then returned it to the guardhouse's supplies. Again, Sans had skipped lunch.

On day three, having watched and listened and learned quite a lot about what to expect of his new life outside of the lab, and also discovered more than a few changes in his older brother, Papyrus had again grabbed two food packs. One he'd opened and set down at his own desk. The other he'd opened and held onto as he marched over to the large desk his brother was sitting at, hunched over the seemingly endless paperwork. Papyrus had slammed his free hand down on the desk, startling Sans, and thrust the lackluster meal into the space directly in front of the older skeleton.

"Eat it or it goes to _waste,_ " he'd growled lowly.

Sans, paranoid as ever, had scanned the room to make sure they were still alone before snorting. (It was another strange, fleshy-monster sound that his brother had picked up, but Papyrus was beginning to understand the noises. He's fairly certain this one was meant to match the amusement Sans was trying to keep off his face.) "Brat," Sans had muttered wryly, his tone almost proud. "Alright, you win. I'll take lunch," he'd announced in a louder voice and waved him off, "Now, go eat yours."

Papyrus had narrowed his eye sockets but relented. "Yes, m'lord."

Sans hadn't _stopped_ to take a real lunch _break,_ but he'd nibbled his way through the portion of food over the course of two-and-a-half hours. Papyrus was willing to accept the compromise.)

At the end of the shift, Dogalina, one of Snowdin's two lieutenants, arrives to take over for Sans and the two skeletons go home. (Papyrus likes her. She's greeted him with a smile and a tail wag for the last two days. Today, she does so for a third time.) During the whole trip home, Papyrus is careful to stay just the right amount behind and to the left of Sans. He'd learned the hard way that the position is actually important. It starts whispers and they get dangerous, gauging looks if he strays too far in any one direction. He keeps his head down, his hands folded, and his senses on alert.

(On day two, Sans had yanked Papyrus down into the snow without warning while they were in the middle of town. By the time Papyrus had cleared the grey slush from his sockets well enough to see, Sans had been standing over a rabbit monster with no fewer than three bright blue bone attacks pinning them to the ground. There were another seven white bones hovering at the ready over the short skeleton's head.

"Did you somehow miss the collar, or are you just stupid?" Sans had asked -- demanded, really -- in a hollow, echoing voice that nonetheless made his anger very clear. It had sent a chill up Papyrus' spine. "Tell me, rabbit, you didn't mean to insult me by attacking my pet, did you?"

"N-n-no, Sans!" the monster had insisted, long ears tight against his head, "W-wouldn't dream of it! Just thought I'd s-save ya the trouble of dealing with such a poorly trained pet."

The loud tisking sound Sans created had filled the unnatural hush, every monster that had stopped to watch remained absolutely silent as they'd waited for the short skeleton's judgement. Sans had looked over his shoulder, eyelights burning a bright, frightening fuchsia rather than his usual violet, and said, "He's young yet. He'll learn." Sans turned his attention back to the rabbit monster and slammed his boot down on the other monster's elbow. The rabbit yelped and whimpered. An attack that Papyrus hadn't noticed forming until that moment immediately dissipated as its creator lost concentration. "Besides," Sans continues, "he was a gift. From the royal scientist." Sans had allowed the proclamation to sink in. "If you'd like an escort to the Magmaflow Lab so you can properly apologize to Doctor Gaster, I'd be willing to personally provide you with one."

The rabbit had gone wide-eyed and pale at the offer. It hadn't looked like he was even breathing.

"Ah," Sans had said, "Perhaps the good doctor does not need to be made aware of this... _misunderstanding._ If he is not already aware of it, that is. He has eyes everywhere, after all." Papyrus had not been able to see his brother's expression from his angle, but the silence had been meaningful and the rabbit had somehow managed to look even more afraid than he had previously. When the rabbit had begun to shake and the blue attacks had creaked ominously, Sans had dismissed them before they'd broken. The rabbit had been on his feet and ready to bolt in an instant. A wall of bones had sprung from the ground directly in his path and he'd decided to try pleading, instead.

"Please!" the rabbit begged, "Please! I didn't mean --"

"Of course you didn't," Sans had interrupted, "Well, let it never be said that the Magnificent and Horrible Sans is _completely_ without mercy."

Papyrus hadn't been at all prepared when Sans had manifested a bone club and struck the rabbit monster across the face with it. The furred monster had collapsed instantly and Sans had finally allowed every attack he'd been holding to vanish. The skeleton had then reached down and grabbed two fistfuls of the injured monster's shirt collar, using it to hoist the larger monster up into a slumped kneeling position. There had been a nasty bruise and a large gash across the rabbit's cheek, trickling a steady stream of dust.

"Listen, and listen well," Sans had growled loudly. The rabbit had obviously still been dazed but it could have been argued that Sans had really been speaking to the gathered witnesses instead of the rabbit. "This is Snowdin's only warning. From here on out, if anyone tries to attack my pet, the cost will be a lot more dust than _this._ I may not be looking to collect a menagerie of pets, but I _will not_ be disrespected. This one is _mine,_ and I take _any_ damage inflicted upon him as a _personal slight._ Tell everyone."

And then he'd dropped the rabbit and addressed the lingering monsters directly. "As for this idiot," Sans had kicked a small spray of slush at the trembling rabbit, "I just gave him a job. I assume you all remember what that means? If I don't see Chomps the _Moronic_ Rabbit spreading the word around town tomorrow, I will hunt down whichever of you dunces prevented my messenger from finishing his work and dust you. If you want to kill him for whatever pitiful amount of EXP he's worth, wait two days."

After glaring at the gathered monsters, Sans had huffed and waved Papyrus over. "Come, pet. We are now unacceptably _late_ for my shift."

Papyrus had wanted to both flee from Sans and to cling to him, but he'd known that neither option was safe. Instead, he'd pushed himself up onto unsteady legs and scrambled to his brother's side. "Y-yes, m'lord," he'd murmured.

Papyrus had spent the first few hours of the shift hidden under the admin desk before Sans finally forced him out and handed him another set of mind-numbing numbers to work on. Strangely enough, the numbers had worked better to calm him than the hiding had.)

Finally, after hours of math, and pretending, and _two_ stressful walks through town, the skeleton brothers return home and it is time for Papyrus' second favorite part of the day. He waits impatiently as Sans locks the door but, the moment the entrance is secure, he pounces on his brother. Sans grunts at the sudden impact but he doesn't stubble like he had the first time.

Sans sighs and grumbles, "You could at least wait a second, Pup. I'm not going to disappear." Despite the annoyed words, he pats one of the younger monster's knees and allows him to settle into a piggyback position.

"I'm a 'Pap.' Not a 'Pup,'" Papyrus huffs halfheartedly. He continues in something of a wheedle, "And I've been good all day. It's time for cuddles, Sans." And he knows he's not the only one that needs them, either. Papyrus can feel it as the tension of the past several hours seeps out of the other skeleton, his soul song relaxing into a slower, calmer tempo that resonates in Papyrus' collar, to say nothing of the way his joints loosen.

Sans hums, the sound neither an argument nor an agreement, and marches toward the kitchen. "You mean besides the time you fell asleep?" he asks.

"Yes," Papyrus murmurs and rests his chin on Sans' left shoulder. He watches as the older monster flips through the Dump-scavenged cookbook.

Sans stops on a page with minimal water damage, blurring only a few of the words. "How about this one?" the older skeleton asks.

"Okay." He doesn't really care what Sans decides on for breakfast or supper. He's just glad Sans doesn't regularly forget them, like he does with lunch. And watching Sans cook their dinner is nice. (Not nice enough to lure him away from bed early enough to watch him make breakfast, too, but it's still nice.) On occasion, Sans even lets him help by adding something to this pot or that pan. Sometimes, he keeps a watchful eye socket on something for Sans so that the other skeleton can focus elsewhere without anything burning.

He's always a little disappointed when they _finish_ cooking, though. At that point, Sans always insists that Papyrus sit in his own chair to eat instead of letting him continue to cling to the older skeleton. And he doesn't allow Papyrus to go back to cuddling him after the end of the meal, either. Sans keeps himself as busy at home as he does at work, and it's chores, chores, chores until bedtime. Sans never forces him to help but Papyrus finds himself doing so more often than not, anyway. There isn't much else to _do_ in the house and he'd prefer to wait until Sans is ready to sleep rather than go to bed alone.

As usual, supper is bland (though Sans seems to be getting just a little better) and chores are boring, but then it is time for Papyrus' actual favorite part of the day.

"Alright, Papy," Sans says around a yawn after yanking a terrible, pun-printed T-shirt over his skull. (It says 'NICE KNIGHT OUT' with black lines over grey-dyed cotton sketching out a poor imitation of plate armour and little, pale yellow stars in odd patterns on the bigger sections. It is horrible. It is only one out of the shameful collection of pun T-shirts hiding in his brother's closet.) The skeleton fumbles a bit with the bedcovers before managing to tuck them satisfactorily around the two monsters in the bed, Papyrus happily snuggled close to Sans' sternum. "Tell me what the prince and his knight got up to today."

Papyrus eagerly launches into his newest story about the part of their pretend game that has to stay extra secret, trying to keep his voice to that same low, soft tone that Sans once used to read bedtime stories to him. Sans falls asleep mid-adventure, but that's okay. His brother doesn't relax enough, and he certainly doesn't sleep enough.

Papyrus releases a yawn of his own as his story winds down. He's warm, and comfortable, and as safe as he can be, and Sans' soul song promises he's loved, in the good way that doesn't involve dust. If this is his life now, it's not as scary as he'd thought it would be a few days ago. And there are parts of it he really likes, especially having his big brother back, even if he's a bit different now. If he can just keep this, Papyrus thinks he'll be okay, content, maybe even happy.

"Love you, Sansy," the young monster mumbles as he joins his brother in sleep. He dreams of growing up to be the brave knight in his new bedtime stories. He dreams of growing up strong enough to protect his prince.


	9. Anxieties and Tears

Sans wakes suddenly, breath caught in his chest and magic agitated. Burning eyelights frantically scan the darkened room, transforming the area with snatches of reflected fuschia and unstable shadows. Where is the threat? Where is the _threat?_ Where _is the_ \--

There is an insistent tug at his core.

Sans hisses in irritation as he recognizes the magic pinging through his soul. "Gaster," he growls softly, mindful of the young skeleton still sleeping next to him, "What do you even want?" Sans gathers all his disgruntled, indignant feelings about having been disturbed in the middle of the night and hurls them back along the soul bond he shares with his mancer. Words may be difficult things to send along a soul bond but the magic carries emotions well enough.

He gets a response of censure, expectation, and a touch of impatience.

Sans scowls. He's inclined to ignore the doc. Or, rather, he _would_ be inclined to ignore him if it weren't for the fact that the last time his absent mancer deigned to make use of their soul bond had been to hand Papyrus over into Sans' care. Sans had ignored those persistent pings on his soul for nearly a month. (And then Gaster had changed tack on him and sent an official summons as the royal scientist. Sans hadn't been able to discard that 'request' so easily.) He should have gone earlier. ~~Papyrus' injuries had been less than a week old. He could have prevented them.~~ However, there had only ever been the three of them: the doc, Papy, and Sans, himself. That's been the entirety of ~~their family~~ the skeleton race, ever since the barrier was raised. There aren't any more younger siblings to rescue from the doc's clutches. So, what could Gaster possibly want from him now?

He doesn't know. He doesn't have the faintest idea. ~~The doc hadn't shown the slightest interest in reinstating him as a sometimes assistant, sometimes lab rat, as he'd originally feared.~~ And that's just the problem.

He needs to go. He needs to find out what has Wingdings Gaster out of sorts enough to try summoning Sans back to the Magmaflow Lab a mere week after his last visit.

The only question now is: what is he going to do with Papy? Bringing him along to the lab is immediately out. Leaving Papy home alone would be unwise. Everyone in Snowdin knows Papyrus exists, now. If Sans is seen leaving town without his 'pet,' someone is going to get it in their foolish head to try something while the young skeleton is unguarded.

Sans scowls at the ceiling. He's going to have to entrust Papyrus' care to someone else, isn't he? Temporarily, at least. He doesn't like it, but he hates all his other options more.

Gaster sends another ping, more impatience and plenty of irritation. His mancer always has hated to be ignored.

Sans responds with his own irritation and annoyance but throws in a surly, ill-mannered acquiescence.

Gaster must have decided that answer was acceptable because the soul bond falls still and quiet, again. ~~He feels like himself and no more than that, again.~~ Sans tisks quietly and debates how long he can afford to make the doc wait. Not long, he concludes. And, even if he could, the sooner whatever _this_ turns out to be is dealt with and in the past, the better.

* * *

He can't deny that he takes some satisfaction in the way the banging continues to echo off the cavern walls after he finishes knocking. Idly, he wonders what percentage of the town he's woken with his racket.

(All of it, probably.)

Sans makes a show of counting the seconds with one precisely controlled, tapping boot, but frankly the dogi already know better than to keep him waiting. The front door swings open before the last of the echoing dies.

"Cap'n," Dogalina yawns, holding the door open to grant him entry into the haphazardly expanded building.

Sans tisks as he flicks his gaze over her figure, noting the armor hurriedly donned over her nightgown. ~~It's comforting to see a steady, pale violet reflected off the smooth metal.~~ He'd known his second would be sleeping at this time (It's _early_ in the day, even discarding the fact that her shift would have ended only five or so hours ago.) but the dogi have more than enough in terms of their numbers to always have a handful of their own keeping watch. He'd have demanded that she be woken, of course, but someone else should have been available to meet him at the door and she should have been afforded the dignity of a bit more time to put herself together. He'll have to make sure to instill better manners in the next generation.

"Finally," he mutters. He snaps his fingers in Papyrus' face and jerks his hand forward in a 'follow' gesture when the younger skeleton is slow to cross the threshold.

His brother yelps halfway through a sympathetic yawn of his own and instead mumbles, "Yes, m'lord." ~~Sans is only glad that the tone is appropriately demure for public, as opposed to the displeased grumbling he'd gotten after rousing the young monster and all through wrestling him into acceptable day wear.~~

"What can I do for you, Cap'n?" Dogalina asks, glancing at the smaller skeleton swaying on his feet.

Sans tries to take comfort in the fact that the look falls somewhere between amused and concerned. "I have pressing business outside of Snowdin," Sans begins, "It is unclear how long this particular venture will take me to see through. I wouldn't expect its demands to stretch beyond the next twenty-four hours, but it's conceivable that complications could arise. This, of course, means that you and Alpha Dog will need to swap off shifts until I am able to return."

"Of course, Captain," Dogalina snaps into a smart salute. Sans allows himself a slight smirk. He's trained her well, and he's willing to admit to some ~~fondness~~ pride in her. "You can count on us. We'll keep the town safe during your absence."

"At ease," Sans says, "I'm sure you both will, but I have a special assignment specifically for you."

His second smiles and her tail wags. "Ready and willing, Cap'n!"

Her state of dress hardly screams 'ready' for much of anything, but the sentiment is understood, nonetheless. "You don't even know what it is yet," the skeleton scoffs and rolls his eyelights but there is no denying that his grin widens.

Dogalina doesn't answer verbally, ears perked as she waits for her mission. Her tail might actually be wagging faster than it had been before.

Sans chuckles. "I'm entrusting you with the care of my pet while I'm away."

"What?" Papyrus yelps loudly, "I, Sa-- m'lord! Don't leave me here! I, I need to go with you!"

San whirls on his brother. "Enough!" he hisses, "You _will_ be staying with Dogalina." Papyrus shrinks away with a wordless whimper and clings to the collar around his neck. Sans can feel his eyelights burning and forces himself to breathe deeply.

He needs to calm down. That damn collar leaves his emotions an open book to his younger brother and the last thing he needs is for Papyrus to pick up on how worried he is. Turning most of his unpleasant feelings into anger is easy enough after so many years of practice, but something tells him that feeding that much anger directly into such a young monster would be inadvisable, to say the least. Neither worry nor anger is an acceptable option, so the only option left is to master his emotions. Starting now.

"The rest of the Underground is treacherous, especially the roads between each province," he says, "I'm not about to have you dusted during some fool's ambush. You're staying in Snowdin."

Papyrus dares to creep closer. "You shouldn't go alone!" he tries again, "I can help!"

"No."

"But --"

"I said, 'No.'" Papyrus isn't making this easy, not that he'd expected otherwise. It's why he hadn't told his brother that he'd be leaving before they'd left home. And he certainly isn't about to mention his destination.

The younger skeleton sniffles and then breaks down into full-on tears. "Don't go! Don't go! Please, don't leave! I'll be good! Don't go! Please, Sansy, don't go! Don't go!"

Sans stiffens. This is a far greater reaction than he'd thought he'd get from Papy. Maybe he should have handled this differently. If only he knew what 'differently' might look like.

He glances back at Dogalina, more to make certain that she hasn't moved than anything. She might be the only dogi that came to let them into the house and the only one that Sans can see, but he isn't foolish enough to think she is the only one listening, watching, or scenting the uninvited guests currently intruding upon their home. No matter how he reacts to Papyrus' fit, it is going to reveal far more than he's comfortable with to far too many monsters.

"If this is so much as breathed of outside of this house," Sans says, voice level but pitched to carry at least as far as his brother's sobs, "there will be consequences." He leaves the threat vague. Better to create an appropriate disciplinary action on the spot than to tie his own hands by promising something specific that may be either too severe or lenient a punishment when faced with the actual indiscretion.

Sans snags the d-ring of his brother's collar and pulls. He then presses his forehead to that of the younger monster. It is decidedly _not_ a gentle gesture. ~~He can't afford 'gentle' when there are _witnesses_ about.~~ "Hush. You're making a scene," he scolds in a level tone even as Papyrus wraps his fingers around the top edge of Sans' breastplate, "You'd be useless on the roads, anyway. The dogi will see to your well-being until I return."

"B-but --" Papy sniffles.

"No. No 'buts.' I have made my decision and it is final," Sans says. He brushes the back of his thumb along the boy's jawline. "I promised to keep you safe, didn't I?"

More sniffles. "Y-yes."

"And surely you don't doubt the capabilities of the Magnificent and Horrible Sans?"

"No..."

"Good," Sans concludes, "Then you should already know that I am well equipped to deal with anything that I may encounter during my trip and that those who have earned my respect are worthy of the roles I have assigned them."

Papyrus sniffs again, but the tears are slowing and his fit seems to be wrapping up. "O-okay."

Sans pulls away enough to carefully examine his brother's face. Tearstained, but calmer. It will have to do. "Better," he says, using the hand not occupied with the collar to tip the boy's chin up, "but I do believe you've been forgetting yourself, pet." The title doesn't set quite as poorly on his teeth as it used to only a week ago. He isn't sure if that's a good thing. Still, for better or worse, the roles they wear in public are becoming more comfortable.

Papy squares his shoulders. Sans can't bring himself to care if anyone watching finds the reaction odd. "Sorry, m'lord. I'll do better."

If his expression softens for a moment, well, only Papyrus should be able to see it. ~~He hopes.~~ Sans pauses long enough to take a breath and settles his facial features into something more acceptable for his station. "I know you will," he states, "I'd accept nothing less." He tries to push forward his pride in Papyrus and his determination to protect him. He doesn't share a soul bond with his little brother, but he thinks the collar should pick up on it well enough. Judging by the way Papy's eyelights flash and his grin twitches, he'd say his efforts have been successful.

Sans looks over his shoulder at Dogalina. "I'll be back as soon as circumstances allow. If Papyrus is in any way harmed before I return, I will see to it that the next litter of dogi don't survive long enough to open their eyes."

"Captain!" Dogalina salutes, eyes bouncing between both skeletons. She really shouldn't still look so happy after he issued such a threat. He scowls at her but finds himself at a loss for what else he can do.

Sans turns back to Papyrus. "Behave yourself, Pup, and listen to Dogalina."

"Yes, m'lord."

"Hn," he flicks his eyelights between his brother and his second. He's not entirely satisfied with how he'll be leaving things in Snowdin, but it's likely the best he's going to be able to manage. "Try not to set the snow on fire while I'm gone," he says before he sees himself out the door.

The sooner he gets to Magmaflow and deals with the doc, the sooner he can get back to Papyrus and the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> This author values and encourages:
> 
>   * Constructive critique
>   * Notification of typos, misspellings, grammatical mistakes, and other writing errors
>   * Feedback on storytelling strengths and weaknesses
>   * Theorizing on character motivations, past events, future story beats, etc.
>   * Reader-to-reader conversation in the comments
> 

> 
> In the comments section, this author generally:
> 
>   * Replies to questions
>   * Attempts to avoid spoilers
>   * Is an imperfect human being, but such is life
> 



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